


Joining the James Gang

by shamusandstone (theleaveswant)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bandits & Outlaws, Begging, Blindfolds, Community: kink_bingo, Crossdressing, F/M, Genderplay, Multi, Outdoor Sex, Porn, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-02
Updated: 2008-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 16:24:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleaveswant/pseuds/shamusandstone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert Ford (Bela) will do anything to make Frank and Jesse James (Sam and Dean) let him join their gang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joining the James Gang

**Author's Note:**

> postage stamp for Kink Bingo 2008

A sudden shove sent the skinny youth sprawling on the ground. His bound hands flew up reflexively to break the fall; brittle pine needles prickled the soft skin. He reached out, feeling blindly for a rock, a stick, some sort of weapon, but before he could find anything a strong hand seized him by the back of his too-big jacket and hauled him up to his knees.

“Let him see,” commanded a deep voice.

The boy flinched as the rag tied over his eyes was abruptly yanked off. He blinked rapidly, more blind in the sudden smoky sunlight than he had been in the murky darkness. His eyes adjusted and focused on blue eyes in a handsome face looking suspiciously down on him.

“What's your name, boy?” the man asked.

“Bob Ford, sir.” He spoke with a convincing American accent and his voice was an octave lower than usual, but he still sounded pre-pubescent.

“Charlie's brother?”

“That's right, sir.”

“What the hell are you doing snooping around our camp?”

“I want to join your gang.”

“That so?” The man sneered. “You do know who we are.”

It wasn't a question, but the boy answered anyway. “You're Jesse James. The tall one's got me by the scruff is your brother Frank.” Technically, the tall one should have been Jesse, since he was younger, but Dean had called dibs on the role on the grounds that he was more charismatic, and the others hadn't cared enough about that point to argue.

“That's right. So tell me, why should the legendary James brothers let a scrawny little rat like you into our gang? What good are you, if Frank here can sneak up on you in broad daylight?”

“I let my guard down, but I swear it won't happen again! I'm a real good shot, just gimme a gun and I'll show you!”

“I don't know. What do you think, Frank?”

“I've got a bad feeling about this one, Jesse. I don't think we can trust him.” The idea for the game had come from Sam's observation that their plotted route through Missouri would take them near to the site of the Blue Cut train robbery. From this, Bela had crafted a scenario (to Dean's consternation when he heard who she intended to portray—didn't he shoot Jesse in the back of the head?) and used one of her mysterious connections to procure the necessary props and costumes.

“Okay, then.” Jesse leveled his pistol at the captive's head. Frank let go of his neck and stepped out of the way.

“No, please!” Bob whined. “Please don't kill me! If you won't let me ride with you, at least let me live!”

He tilted the barrel upwards. “Guess you don't really want to join us after all, if that's how easy you give up the fight.”

“No, I do want to join you! Honest, I do!” Bob raised his tied hands in supplication. “Let me show you how bad I want it. I'll do anything you want, Mr. James, only please let me ride with you!”

“Anything?” Frank repeated. “Did you hear that, Jesse?”

“I certainly did, Frankie.” Bob could practically hear Frank's eyes rolling: no matter what alias he assumed, there was no escape from 'Sammy'.

Jesse holstered his weapon. “Well, little Robert, let me get a look at you.”

He pinched Bob's chin and leaned in close to inspect it. The smaller man stared defiantly back into his mischievous sparkling eyes. “I'll say this for you, kid: you sure do got a purdy mouth.” Bob fought to stifle a snort: as much as Dean might like him to, he will not ruin this by laughing. “Yessiree, pretty pink lips just begging to be put to good use. Frankie?”

“My pleasure,” Frank said, and Jesse moved back to allow him to step into position. He was too tall standing for Bob to reach on his knees, so he pulled up a worn cask and sat on its edge, beckoning Bob to crawl over the sticks and pebbles to kneel between his splayed legs. He fumbled with bound hands to unbutton the fly of Frank's wool trousers and dig out the slit of his long underwear, but eventually he managed to release the hardening cock.

He took as much of Frank's length into his mouth as he could, using his tiny hands to squeeze and stroke his balls and the remaining shaft. He sucked with professional skill, rolling his tongue against the underside of the head. Jesse murmured encouragement while his brother gasped and twisted a hand in Bob's hair, and from the corner of his eye Bob could see him wanking, perched on a battered steam trunk. Encouraged, Bob threw himself into the task with still greater vigor, moaning around his slippery mouthful.

“Oh, fuck,” Frank muttered. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_.” Not especially articulate, but it conveyed the message, and Bob picked up the pace until Frank came, pounding on the cask with his fist as he did. Bob pulled back slowly, trying to capture every salty drop, but a trickle still managed to escape to run down his chin.

“My turn.” Jesse lunged to his feet and threw Bob, who'd barely had time to swallow, over the edge of the trunk.

“Put the blindfold back on him,” Frank said breathlessly as Jesse pushed Bob's oversized coat out of the way and tugged his shirttails from his belt.

“And cover up that pretty face?”

“What do you care? You can't see it anyway.”

Bob was once more plunged into darkness as Jesse did as Frank asked and wound the strip of cotton around his eyes and tied the ends behind his head. He yelped and clung onto tarnished hinge of the trunk as Jesse pulled his trousers down around his hips, just far enough to expose his flushed cheeks, and shoved his cock (well-lubed, an exception to Bela's own insistence on 1880s period accuracy) into Bob's ass.

Jesse, worked up from watching Frank's blow job, fucked him frantically. One hand gripped Bob's hip with bruising force, holding him in place on the edge of the trunk while the other reached forward to clumsily caress the uncovered lower half of Bob's face. The edge of his thumb brushed Bob's lips and Bob sucked it into his mouth, grazing the pad with his teeth. Jesse moaned and slid the hand back, pawing at Bob's chest through his shirt. It was Bob's turn to moan when Jesse found his breast, slipped free of its skewed binding and bouncing against the trunk, and rolled the stiff nipple between his fingers.

Jesse pounded Bob's ass hard enough that he lost his grip on the hinge, his fingers scrabbling in the dirt while his muscles clenched around the hot invasion, seeking more of that delicious pressure. He screamed like a wildcat when he came (hardly masculine, but she was long past caring), and Jesse extended the metaphor by biting into his neck when he followed a few thrusts later.

“So,” Bela said when Dean rolled off of her, pushing the blindfold up onto her forehead and taking the rag Sam offered her to clean herself up with, “can I join your gang?”

Dean and Sam exchanged a look over her back.

Sam licked his lips. “Let's just say, you passed the first interview.”


End file.
